hat-and-goggles

i will look back at the doors again. there is no safety here, i have not ever expected it. always on fire, each outing a breath of heirs shouted at, covered up, pale. when you are fire they see you, unfairly kept under stares. parenting through rise and run, unaware of the distance and unsure how high the soles climb. open not, doors. be kind. be sturdy and unassailable, not pearly and failing. keep that lock bit fast between dusk and the children. the sons and the daughters have grown, while we passively drone on about our own plagues. the smear of old blood we watched dry steady drips. i will look back with my own fire, my own mem